Lives Of The Most Remarkable Criminals Who have been Condemned and Executed for Murder, the Highway, Housebreaking, Street Robberies, Coining or other offences by Arthur L. Hayward

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ships, Captain Bowles commander, then lying in the Tagus, and bound homefor England, who accordingly brought him home. Though, as it happened,Heaven brought the captain and the rest of the crew so quickly to an endof their villainies that they all came home time enough to be hangedwith their lieutenant.

But to return to Gow and his crew. Having thus dismissed theBristol-man, and cleared his hands of most of his prisoners, with thesame wicked generosity he gave the Bristol captain thirteen cerons ofbeeswax, as a gratuity for his trouble and charge with the prisoners,and in recompense, as he called it, for the goods he had taken from him,and so they parted.

This was the last prize they took, not only on the coast of Portugal,but anywhere else, for Gow, who, to give him his due, was a fellow ofcouncil and had a great presence of mind in cases of exigence,considered that as soon as the Bristol ship came into the river ofLisbon, they would certainly give an account of them, as well of theirstrength, and of their station in which they cruised, and thatconsequently the English men-of-war (of which there are generally somein that river) would immediately come abroad to look for then. So hebegan to reason with his officers that the coast of Portugal would be noproper place at all for them, unless they resolved to fall into thehands of the said men-of-war, and they ought to consider immediatelywhat to do. In these debates some advised one thing, some another, as isusual in like cases. Some were for going to the coast of Guinea, where,as they said, was purchase[103] enough, and very rich ships to be taken;others were for going to the West Indies, and to cruise among theIslands, and take up their station at Tobago; others, and not those ofthe most ignorant, proposed standing in to the Bay of Mexico, andjoining in with some of a new sort of pirates at St. Jago de la Cuba,who are all Spaniards, and call themselves _Guarda del Costa_, that isGuard ships for the coast (though under that pretence they make prize ofships of all nations, and sometimes even of their own countrymen too,but especially of the English), but when this was proposed, it wasanswered they durst not trust the Spaniards. Others said they should gofirst to the islands of New Providence [Bahama Islands], or to the mouthof the Gulf of Florida, and then cruising on the coast of North America,and making their retreat at New Providence, cruise from the Gulf ofFlorida, north upon the coast of Carolina, and as high as the Capes ofVirginia.

But nothing could be resolved on, until at last Gow let them into thesecret of a project, which, as he told them, he had long had in histhoughts, and this was to go away to the North of Scotland, near thecoast of which, as he said, he was born and bred, and where he said, ifthey met with no purchase upon the sea, he could tell them how theyshould enrich themselves by going on shore. To bring them to concur withthis design, he represented the danger they were in where they were, thewant they were in of fresh water, and of several kinds of provisions,but above all, the necessity they were in of careening and cleaningtheir ship; that it was too long a run for them to go to southward, andthat they had not provisions to serve them till they could reach to anyplace proper for that purpose, and might be driven to the utmostdistress, if they should be put by from watering, either by weather orenemies.

Also, he told them, if any of the men-of-war came out in search of them,they would never imagine they were gone away to the northward, so thattheir run that way was perfectly secure, and he could assure them of hisown knowledge that if they landed in such places as he should direct,they could not fail of considerable booty in plundering some gentlemen'shouses, who lived secured and unguarded very near the shore; and thatthough the country should be alarmed, yet before the Government couldsend any men-of-war to attack them, they might clean their ship, lay ina store of fresh provisions, and be gone. Beside that, they would get agood many stout fellows to go along with them upon his encouragement, sothat they should be better manned than they were yet, and should beready against all events.

These arguments and their approaching fate concurring, had a sufficientinfluence on the ship's company to prevail on them to consent, so theymade the best of their way to the northward; and about the middle ofJanuary they arrived at Carristoun,[104] in the Isles of Orkney, andcame to an anchor in a place which Gow told them was safe riding underthe lee of a small island at some distance from the port. But now theirmisfortunes began to come on, and things looked but with an indifferentaspect upon them, for several of their men, especially such of them ashad been forced or decoyed into their service, began to think of makingtheir escape from them, and to cast about for means to bring it to pass.

The first to take an opportunity to go away was a young man who wasoriginally one of the ship's company, but was forced by fear of beingmurdered (as has been observed) to give a silent assent to go with them.It was one evening when the boat went on shore, for they kept a civilcorrespondence with the people of the town, that this young fellow,being one of the ship's crew and having been several times on shorebefore, and therefore not suspected, gave them the slip and got away toa farm-house which lay under a hill out of sight. There, for two orthree pieces-of-eight, he got a horse, and soon by that means escaped toKirkwall, a market town and chief of the Orkneys, about twelve milesfrom the place where the ship lay. As soon as he came there hesurrendered himself to the Government, desiring protection, and informedthem who Gow was, and what the ship's crew were, and upon what businessthey were abroad, with what else he knew of their designs, as toplundering the gentlemen's houses, etc. Upon this they immediatelyraised the country, and got a strength together to defend themselves.

But the next disaster that attended the pirates (for misfortunes seldomcome alone) was more fatal than this, for ten of Gow's men, most of themlikewise forced into their service, went away with the long-boat, makingthe best of their way for the mainland of Scotland. These men, howeverthey did it, or what shift soever they made to get so far, were taken inthe Firth of Edinburgh, and made prisoners there.

Hardened for his own destruction and Justice evidently pursuing him, Gowgrew the bolder for the disaster, and notwithstanding that the countrywas alarmed, and that he was fully discovered, instead of making atimely escape, he resolved to land, and so put his intended project ofplundering the gentlemen's houses into execution, whatever it cost him.

In order to this he sent the boatswain and ten men on shore the verysame night, very well armed, directing them to go to the house of Mr.Honeyman of Grahamsey, sheriff of the county, and who was himself atthat time, to his great good fortune, from home. The people of the househad not the least notice of their coming, so that when they knocked atthe door, it was immediately opened. Upon which they all entered thehouse at once, except one Panton, who they set sentinel and ordered himto stand at the door to secure their retreat, and to hinder any fromcoming in after them Mrs. Honeyman and her daughter were extremelyfrightened at the sight of so many armed men coming into the house, andran screaming about like people distracted, while the pirates, notregarding them, were looking about for chests and trunks, where theymight expect to find some plunder; and Mrs. Honeyman in her frightcoming to the door asked Panton, the man who stood sentinel there, whatthe meaning of it all was. He told her freely they were pirates, andthat they came to plunder her house. At this she recovered some courage,and ran back into the house immediately, and knowing where her moneylay, which was very considerable and all in gold, she put the bag in herlap and boldly rushing by Panton, who thought she was only running fromthem in a fright, carried it all off, and so made her escape with thetreasure.

The boatswain being informed that the money was carried off, resolved torevenge himself by burning the writings and papers, which they callthere the charters of their estates, and are always of great value ingentlemen's houses of estates but the young lady, Mr. Honeyman'sdaughter hearing them threaten to burn the writings, watched heropportunity, and running to the charter-room where they lay, tied themost considerable of them up in a napkin and threw them out of thewindow, jumped out after them herself, and escaped without damage,though the window was one storey high at least.

However, the pirates had the plundering of all the rest of the housebesides, and carried off a great deal of plate, and things of value, andforced one of the servants, who played very well on the bagpipes, tomarch along, piping before them, when they carried it off to the ship.The next day they weighed anchor, intending though they had cleaned butone side of the ship, to put out to sea and quit the coast. But sailingeastward, they came to anchor again at a little island called CalfSound. And having some further mischief in their view here the boatswainwent on shore again with some armed men; but meeting with no otherplunder they carried off three women, whom they kept on board some timeand used so inhumanly that when they set them on shore again they werenot able to go or stand, and it is said one of them died on the beachwhere they left them.

The next day they weighed again, holding the same course eastward,through the openings between the islands, till they came off Ross Ness;and now Gow resolved to make the best of his way for the Island of Eday,to plunder the house of Mr. Fea, a gentleman of a considerable estate,and with whom Gow had some acquaintance, having been at school together,when they were youths. On the 13th of February in the morning, Gowappearing with his ship off Calf Sound, Mr. Fea and his family were verymuch alarmed, not being able to get together above six or seven men forhis defence. He therefore wrote a letter to Gow intending to send it onboard as soon as he should get into the harbour, to desire him toforbear the usual salutes, with his great guns, because Mrs. Fea hiswife was so very much indisposed, and this as he would oblige his oldschool fellow; telling him at the same time that the inhabitants wereall fled to the mountains, on the report of his being a pirate, which hehoped would not prove true. In which case, he should be very ready tosupply him with all such necessities as the island would afford,desiring him to send the messengers safe back, at whose return thealarms of the people would immediately be at an end.

The tide it seems runs extremely rapid among those islands, and thenavigation is thereby rendered very dangerous and uncertain. Gow was anable seaman, but was no pilot for that place, and which was worse, hehad no boat to assist in case of extremity, to ware the ship, and inturning into Calf Sound, he stood a little too near the point of alittle island called the Calf, and which lay in the middle of thepassage. Here his ship missing stays, was in great danger of going onshore; to avoid which, he dropped an anchor under his foot, which takinggood hold, brought him up, and he thought the danger was over. Gow wasyet in distress and had no remedy but to send his small boat on shore toMr. Fea to desire his assistance, that is to say, to desire him to lendhim a boat to carry out an anchor and heave off the ship. Mr. Fea sentback the boat, and one James Laing in it, with the letter alreadymentioned. Gow sent him back immediately with an answer, by word ofmouth, viz., that he would write to nobody, but if Mr. Fea would orderhis people to assist him with a boat to carry out an anchor, he wouldreward them handsomely.

In the meantime Mr. Fea ordered his great boat, for he had such a one asGow wanted, to be staved and launched into the water and sunk, and themasts, sails and oars to be carried out of sight. While this was doingMr. Fea perceived Gow's boat coming on shore, with five persons in her.These men having landed on the main island, left their boat on thebeach, and altogether marched directly up to the mansion house. This puthim into some surprise at first, however, he resolved to meet them in apeaceable manner, though he perceived they were all double-armed. Whenhe came up to them, he entreated them not to go up to the house,because of the languishing condition of his wife, who was alreadyfrighted with the rumours which had been raised of their being pirates,and that she would certainly die with the fear she was in for herselfand family, if they came to the door.

The boatswain answered they did not desire to fright his wife, oranybody else, but they came to desire the assistance of his boat, and ifhe would not grant them so small a favour, he had nothing to expect fromthem but the utmost extremity. Mr. Fea returned that they knew wellenough he could not venture to give them or lend them his boat or anyhelp, as they appeared to be such people as were reported, but that ifthey would take them by force, he could not help himself. But in themeantime, talking still in a friendly manner to them, he asked them togo to a neighbouring house, which he said was a change-house, that is apublic-house, and take a cup of ale with him. This they consented to,seeing Mr. Fea was alone; so they went all with him. In the meantime Mr.Fea found means to give secret orders that the oars, masts and sails ofthe pirates' boat should be all carried away, and that a quarter of anhour after they had sat together, he should be called hastily out of theroom, on some pretence or other of somebody to speak with him; all whichwas performed to a tittle. When he was got from them, he gave ordersthat his six men, who before he had got together, and who were now cometo him well armed, should place themselves at a certain stile behind athick hedge, and which was about half way between the alehouse and hisown house, saying that if he came that way with the boatswain alone,they should suddenly start out upon them both, and throwing him down,should seize upon the other, but that if all the five came with him, hewould take an occasion to be either before or behind them, so that theymight all fire upon them, without danger of hurting him.

Having given these orders, and depending upon their being well executed,he returned to the company and having given them more ale, told them hewould gladly do them any service that he could lawfully do, and that ifthey would take the trouble of walking up to his house in a peaceablemanner so that his family might not be frighted with seeing him amongthem, they should have all the assistance that was in his power. Thefellows (whether they had taken too much ale, or whether the conditionof their ship and the hopes of getting a boat to help them, blindedtheir eyes, is not certain) fell with ease into this snare, and agreedreadily to go along with Mr. Fea; but after a while resolved not to goall of them, only deputed the boatswain to go, which was what Mr. Feamost desired.

[Illustration: A GANG OF MEN AND WOMEN TRANSPORTS BEING MARCHED FROMNEWGATE TO BLACKFRIARS

Chained neck to neck and hand to hand these wretches were led throughthe streets to Blackfriars Stairs, where they were taken aboard a bargeand carried down the river to the vessel which was to transport them toAmerica.

(_From the Newgate Calendar_)]

The boatswain was very willing to accept of the trust, but it wasobserved he took a great deal of care of his arms, which were no lessthan four pistols, all loaded with a brace of bullets each, nor would hebe persuaded to leave any of them behind him, no not with his own men.In this posture, Mr. Fea and the boatswain walked along together veryquietly, until they came to the stile, having got over which Mr. Fea,seeing his men all ready, turned short about upon the boatswain, andtaking him by the collar, told him he was his prisoner and the samemoment, the rest of his men rushing in upon them, threw both down, andso secured the boatswain, without giving him time so much as to fire onepistol. He cried out, indeed, with all his might to alarm his men, butthey soon stopped his mouth by first forcing a pistol into it, and thena handkerchief; and having disarmed him, bound his hands behind him andhis feet together. Then Mr. Fea left him there under a guard, and withhis other five men, but without arms, at least such that could be seen,returned to the alehouse to the rest. The house having two doors, theydivided themselves and rushing in at both doors at the same time, theyseized the four men before they were aware, or had time to lay hold oftheir arms. They did indeed what men could do, and one of them snapped apistol at Mr. Fea, but it did not go off, and Mr. Fea at the same timesnatching at the pistol to divert the shot if it had fired, struck hishand with such force against the cock, as very much bruised it.

They were all five now in his power, and he sent them away under a goodguard to a village in the middle of the island, where they were keptseparate from one another, and sufficiently secured. Mr. Fea thendespatched expresses to the gentlemen in the neighbouring island toacquaint them with what he had done, and to desire their speedyassistance, also desiring earnestly that they would take care that noboat should go within reach of the pirates' guns. And at night Mr. Feacaused fires to be made upon the hills round him, to alarm the country,and ordered all the boats round the Island to be hauled up upon thebeach, as far as it was possible, and disabled also, lest the piratesshould swim from the ship, and get any of them into their possession.

Next day, the 4th, it blew very hard all day, and in the evening abouthigh water, it shifted to W.N.W., upon which the pirates set theirsails, expecting to get off and so to lay it round the island, and putout to sea. But the fellow who was ordered to cut the cable, missingseveral strokes, the cable checked the ship's way, and consequently on asudden she took all aback. Then the cable being parted when it shouldhave been held, the ship ran directly on shore on the Calf Island, norcould all their speed prevent it. With an air of desperation Gow toldthem they were all dead men, nor could it indeed be otherwise, forhaving lost the only boat they had, and five of their best hands, theywere able to do little or nothing towards getting their ship off;besides, as she went on shore at the top of high water, and a springtide, there was no hope of getting her off afterward. Wherefore the nextmorning, being Monday, the 15th, they hung out a white flag, as a signalfor a parley, and sent a man on shore upon Calf Island, for now theycould go on shore out of the ship at half flood.

Now Mr. Fea thought he might talk with Gow, in a different style fromwhat he did before; so he wrote a letter to him, wherein he complainedof the rude behaviour of his five men, for which he told him, he hadbeen obliged to seize on them, and make them prisoners, letting him knowthat the country being all alarmed would soon be too many for him, andtherefore advised him to surrender himself peaceably, and be the authorof a quiet surrender of the rest, as the only means to obtain anyfavour; and then he might become an evidence against the rest, and somight save his own life. This letter Mr. Fea sent by a boat with fourarmed men to the island, to be given to the fellow that Gow had sent onshore, and who waited there; at the same time, he gave them a letterfrom Gow to Mr. Fea, for now he was humbled enough to write, whichbefore he refused. Gow's letter to Mr. Fea was to let him have some menand boats, to take out the best of the cargo, in order to lighten theship, and set her afloat; offering himself to come on shore and behostage for the security of men and boats and to give Mr. Fea a thousandpounds in goods for the service. He declared at the same time, that ifthis small succour was refused him, he would take care nobody shouldbetter himself by his misfortunes, for rather than they would sufferthemselves to be taken, they would set fire to the ship, and would allperish together.

Mr. Fea replied to this letter that he had a boat indeed, that wouldhave been fit for his service, but that she was staved and sunk; but ifhe would come on shore quietly without arms, and bring his carpenterwith him to repair the boat, he might have her. Mr. Fea did this to giveGow an opportunity to embrace his first offer of surrendering. But Gowwas neither humble enough to come in nor sincere enough to treat withhim fairly, if he had intended to let him have the boat; and if he had,it is probable that the former letter had made the men suspicious ofhim, so that now he could do nothing without communicating it to therest of the crew. About four in the afternoon Mr. Fea received an answerto his last letter, the copy of which is exactly as follows:

From on board our Ship the _Revenge_, Feb. 16th, 1725.

Honoured Sir,

I am sorry to hear of the irregular proceedings of my men; I gave no orders to that effect, and what hath been wrongfully done to the country, was contrary to my inclinations. It is my misfortune to be in this condition at present; it was in your power to have done otherwise in making my fortune better. Since my being in the country, I have wronged no man, nor taken anything but what I have paid for. My design in coming was to make the country better, which I am still capable to do, providing you are just to me. I thank you for the concern you have for my bad fortune, and am sorry I cannot embrace your proposal as to being evidence, my people have already made use of that advantage. I have by my last signified my design of proceeding, provided I can procure no better terms. Please to send James Laing on board to continue till my return. I should be glad to have the good fortune to commune with you upon that subject. I beg that you would assist me with a boat, and be assured I do no man harm, were it in my power, as I am now at your mercy. I cannot surrender myself prisoner, I'd rather commit myself to the mercy of the seas; so that if you will incline to contribute to my escape, I shall leave my ship and cargo at your disposal.

I continue, Honoured Sir etc., John Smith

Upon this letter, and especially that part wherein Gow desired tocommune with him, Mr. Fea, believing he might do some service inpersuading him to submit, went over to Calf Island and went on shorealone, ordering his boat to lie in readiness to take him in again, butnot one man to stir out of her, and calling to Gow with a speakingtrumpet desired him to come on shore. This the other readily did, butMr. Fea, before he ventured, wisely foresaw that whilst he was aloneupon the Island, the pirates might unknown from him, get the ship bydifferent ways, and under cover of shore might get behind and surroundhim. To prevent which, he set a man upon the top of his own house, whichwas on the opposite shore and overlooked the whole island, and orderedhim to make signals with his flag, waving his flag once for every manthat he saw come on shore, but if four or more came on shore, then tokeep the flag waving continually, till he (Mr. Fea) should retire. Thisprecaution was very needful, for no sooner was Mr. Fea advanced upon theisland, expecting Gow to come on shore to meet him, but he saw a fellowcome from the ship, with a white flag, a bottle, a glass and a bundle,then turning to his own house, he saw his man make the signalsappointed, and that the man kept the flag continually waving. Upon whichhe immediately retired to his boat, and he was no sooner got into it,but he saw five fellows running under shore, with lighted matches andgrenadoes in their hands to have intercepted him, but seeing him out oftheir reach, they retired to the ship.

After this the fellow with the white flag came up and gave Mr. Fea twoletters; he would have left the bundle, which he said was a present toMr. Fea, and the bottle which he said was a bottle of brandy, but Mr.Fea would not take them, but told the fellow his captain was atreacherous villain, and he did not doubt that he should see him hanged,and as to him (the fellow) he had a great mind to shoot him; upon whichthe fellow took to his heels, and Mr. Fea being in his boat did notthink it worth while to land again to pursue him. This put an end to allparley for the present, but had the pirates succeeded in this attempt,they would have so far gained their point, either that they must havebeen assisted, or Mr. Fea must have been sacrificed.

The two letters from Gow were one for Mr. Fea, and the other for hiswife. The first was much to the same purpose as the former, only that inthis Gow requested the great boat with her masts, sails and oars, withsome provisions to transport themselves whither they thought fit to gofor their own safety, offering to leave the ship and cargo to Mr. Fea,and threatening that if the men-of-war arrived (for Mr. Fea had givenhim notice that he expected two men-of-war) before he was thus assisted,they would set fire to the ship, and blow themselves up, so that as theyhad lived so they would die together. The letter to Mrs. Fea was todesire her to intercede with her husband, and plead that he was theircountryman and had been her husband's schoolfellow, etc. But no answerwas returned to either of these letters.

On the 17th, in the morning, contrary to expectation, Gow himself cameon shore upon the Calf Island[105], unarmed except for his sword, andalone, only one man at a distance, carrying a white flag, making signalsfor a parley. Mr. Fea, who by this time had gotten more people abouthim, immediately sent one Mr. Fea, of Whitehall, a gentleman of his ownfamily, with five other persons well-armed over the island, with ordersto secure Gow if it were possible by any means, either dead or alive.When they came on shore, Gow proposed that one of them, whose name wasSchottary, a master of a vessel, should go on board the ship as hostagefor this Gow's safety, and Schottary consenting, Gow himself conductedhim to the ship's side.

Mr. Fea perceiving this from his own house, immediately took anotherboat and went over to the island himself, and while he was expostulatingwith his men for letting Schottary go for hostage, Gow returned, and Mr.Fea made no hesitation, but told him that he was his prisoner. At thisGow started and said that it ought not to be so, since there was ahostage delivered for him. Mr. Fea said he gave no order for it, and itwas what they could not justify, and since Schottary had venturedwithout orders, he must take his fate, he would run the venture of it;but he advised Gow, as he expected good usage himself, that he wouldsend the fellow who carried his white flag back to the ship with ordersfor them to return Schottary in safety, and to desire Winter andPeterson to come with him. Gow declined giving any such orders, but thefellow said he would readily go and fetch them, and did so, and theycame along with him. When Gow saw them, he reproached them for being soeasily imposed on, and ordered them to go back to the ship immediately,but Mr. Fea's men, who were too strong for them, surrounded them andtook them all. When this was done, they demanded Gow to deliver hissword, but he said he would rather die with it in his hand, and beggedthem to shoot him, but was denied; and Mr. Fea's men disarming him ofhis sword, carried him with the other two into their boat, and afterthat to the main island, where Mr. Fea lived.

Having thus secured the captain, Mr. Fea prevailed with him to go to theshore over against the ship, and to call the gunner and another man tocome on shore on Calf Island, which they did. But they were no soonerthere, but they also were surrounded by some men which Mr. Fea hadplaced out of sight upon the island for that purpose. Then they made Gowcall to the carpenter to come on shore, still making them believe theywould have a boat; and Mr. Fea went over and met him alone, and talkingwith him, told him they could not repair the boat without help andwithout tools. So persuading him to go back and bring a hand or two withhim, and some tools, some oakum, nails, etc., the carpenter being thusdeluded, went back and brought a Frenchman and another with him, withall things proper for their work. All of whom, as soon as they came onshore, were likewise seized and secured by Mr. Fea and his men.

But there were still a great many men in the ship, whom it was necessaryto bring if possible to a quiet surrender; so Mr. Fea ordered his men tomake a feint as if they would go to work upon the great boat which layon the shore upon the island but in sight of the ship. There theyhammered and knocked and made a noise as if they were really caulkingand repairing her, in order to her being launched off and put into theirpossession; but towards night he obliged Gow to write to the men thatMr. Fea would not deliver the boat until he was in possession of theship, and therefore he ordered them all to come on shore, without arms,and in a peaceable manner. This occasioned many debates in the ship, butas they had no officers to guide them and were all in confusion, theyknew not what to do. So after some time bewailing their hard fate, anddividing what money was left in the ship among them, they yielded andwent on shore, and were all made prisoners, to the number ofeight-and-twenty, including those who were secured before.

Being now all secured and in custody in the most proper places in theisland, Mr. Fea took care to give notice to the proper officers in thecountry, and by them to the Government of Edinburgh, in order to gethelp for the carrying them to England. The distance being so great, ittook up some time; for the Government at Edinburgh not being immediatelyconcerned in it, but rather the Court of Admiralty of Great Britain,expresses were dispatched from thence to London, that his Majesty'spleasure might be known; in return to which, orders were despatched intoScotland to have them immediately sent up into England with as muchexpedition as the case would admit. Accordingly they were brought up byland to Edinburgh first, and from thence being put on board the_Greyhound_ frigate, they were brought by sea to England. Thisnecessarily took up a great deal of time, so that had they been wiseenough to improve the hours that were left, they had almost half ayear's time to prepare themselves for death, though they cruelly deniedthe poor mate of a few moments to commend his soul to God's mercy, evenafter he was half murdered before. They were most of them in custody thelatter end of January, and were not executed till the 11th of June.

The _Greyhound_ arrived in the river the 25th of March, and the next daycame to an anchor at Woolwich; and the pirates being put into boatsappointed to receive them, with a strong guard to attend them, werebrought on shore on the 30th, and conveyed to the Marshalsea prison inSouthwark, where they were delivered to the keepers of the said prison,and were laid in irons. There they had the mortification to meetLieutenant Williams, who was brought home by the _Argyle_ man-of-war,from Lisbon, and had been committed to the same prison but a very fewdays before.

Indeed, as it was a mortification to them, so it was more to him, forthough he might be secretly pleased that those who had so cruelly, as hecalled it, put him into the hands of Justice by sending him to Lisbon,were brought into the same circumstances with himself, yet on the otherhand, it could not but be a terrible mortification to him that here werenow sufficient witnesses found to prove his crimes against him, whichwere not so easy to be had before.

Being thus laid fast, it remained to proceed against them in due form,and this took up some long time still. On Friday, the 2nd of April, theywere all carried to Doctors' Commons, where the proper judges beingpresent, they were examined; by which examination the measures weretaken for the farther proceedings. For as they were not equally guilty,so it was needful to determine who it was proper to bring to animmediate trial, and who, being less guilty, were more proper objects ofthe Government's clemency, as being under force and fear andconsequently necessitated to act as they did; and also who it might beproper to single out as an evidence against the rest. After being thusexamined they were remanded to the Marshalsea. On Saturday, the 8th ofMay, the five who were appointed for evidence against the rest, andwhose names are particularly set down in its place, were sent from theMarshalsea prison to Newgate, in order to give their information.

Being thus brought up to London, and committed to the Marshalsea prison,and the Government being fully informed, what black uncommon offendersthey were, it was thought proper to bring them to speedy justice. Inorder to this, some of them, as has been said, who were less criminalthan the rest, and who apparently had been forced into their service,were sorted out, and being examined (giving first an account ofthemselves, and then of the whole fraternity) it was thought fit to makeuse of their evidence for the more clear detecting and convincing of therest. These were George Dobson, John Phinnes, Timothy Murphy, andWilliam Booth.

These were the principal evidences, and were indeed more thansufficient, for they so exactly agreed in their evidence, and theprisoners (pirates) said so little in their defence, that there was noroom for the jury to question their guilt, or to doubt the truth of anypart of the account given in. Robert Read was a young man, mentionedbefore, who escaped from the boat in the Orkneys, where he surrenderedhimself, after getting a horse at a farmer's house, and conveyinghimself to Kirkwall, the chief town of the said Orkneys. Nevertheless,he was brought up as a prisoner with the rest, nor was he made use of asan evidence but was tried upon most, if not all the indictments with therest. But Dobson, one of the witnesses, did him the justice to testifythat he was forced into their service, as others were, for fear ofhaving their throats cut, as many had been served before their faces,and that in particular he was not present at, or concerned in any of themurders for which the rest were indicted. Upon which evidence, he wasacquitted by the jury. Also he brought one Archibald Sutor, the man ofthe house said before to be a farm-house, as to whether the said Readmade his escape in the Orkneys, who testified that he did so escape tohim, and that he begged him to procure him a horse, to ride off toKirkwall, which he did, and there he surrendered himself; also hetestified that Read gave him (Sutor) a full account of the ship and thepirates that were in her, and what they were; and that he (Sutor)revealed it all to the collector of the Customs, by which means thecountry was alarmed, and he added, that it was by this man's means thatall the prisoners were apprehended (though that was going too far, for'tis plain, that it was by the vigilance and courage of Mr. Fea,chiefly, that they were reduced to such distresses as obliged them tosurrender). However, it was true that Read's escape did alarm thecountry, and that he merited very well of the public for the timelydiscovery he made, so he came off clear as indeed it was but just, forhe was not only forced to serve them, but as Dobson testified for him,he had often expressed his uneasiness at being obliged to act with them,and that he wished he could get away, and he was sincere in thosewishes, as appeared by his taking the first opportunity he could get toput it in practice. This Dobson was one of the ten men who ran away withthe pirates' long-boat from the Orkneys, and who were afterwards madeprisoners in the Firth of Leith, and carried up to Edinburgh.

Gow was now a prisoner among the rest in the Marshalsea. His behaviourthere was sullen and reserved, rather than penitent. It had been hintedto him by Mr. Fea, as by others, that by his behaviour he shouldendeavour to make himself an evidence against others, and to merit hislife by a ready submission, and obliging others to do the like. But Gowwas no fool, and he easily saw there were too many gone before who hadprovided for their own safety at his expense, and besides that he knewhimself too deeply guilty of cruelty and murder to be accepted by publicjustice as an evidence, especially where so many other less criminalswere to be had. This made him, with good reason, too, give over anythoughts of escaping by such means as that; and perhaps seeing soplainly that there was no room for it might be the reason why he seemedto reject the offer, otherwise he was not a person of such nice honouras that we should suppose he would not have secured his own life at theexpense of his comrades. Gow appeared to have given over all thoughts oflife, from the first time he came to England. Not that he showed anytokens of his repentance, or any sense of his condition suitable to thatwhich was before him, but continuing sullen and reserved, even to thevery time he was brought to the bar, when he came there, he could not betried with the rest, for the arraignment being made in the usual form,he refused to plead. The Court used all the arguments which humanitydictates in such cases,[106] to prevail on him to come into ordinarycourse of other people in like government, laying before him thesentence of the law in such cases, namely that he must be pressed todeath, the only torturing execution which however they were obliged toinflict.

But he continued inflexible, carried on his obstinacy to such a heightas to receive the sentence in form, as usual in such cases. Theexecution being appointed to be done the next morning, he was carriedback to Newgate in order to it. But whether he was prevailed with byargument and the reasons of those about him, or whether the apparatusfor the execution and the manner of the death he was to die terrifiedhim, we cannot say, but the next morning he yielded, and petitioned tobe allowed to plead, and he admitted to be tried in the ordinary way.Which being granted, he was brought to the bar by himself and pleaded,being arraigned again upon the same indictment upon which he had beensentenced as a mute, and was found guilty.

Williams the lieutenant, who was put on board the Bristol ship (as hathbeen said) with orders to deliver him on board the first Englishman-of-war they should meet with, comes, of course, to have the rest ofhis history made up in this place. The captain of the Bristol ship,though he received his orders from the crew of pirates and rogues, whoseinstructions he was not obliged to follow, and whose accusation ofWilliams they were not obliged to give credit to, yet punctually obeyedthe order, and put him on board the _Argyle_, Captain Bowler, then lyingin the port of Lisbon and bound for England; who, as they took him inirons, kept him so, and brought him to England, in the same conditions.But as the pirates did not send any of their company, nor indeed couldthey do it, along with him to be evidence against him, and the men whowent out of the pirate ship on board the Bristol ship, being till thenkept as prisoners on board the pirate ship (and perhaps could not havesaid enough, or given particular evidence, sufficient to convict him ina course of justice), Providence supplied the want by bringing the wholecrew to the same place; for Williams was in the Marshalsea prison beforethem, and by that means they furnished sufficient evidence againstWilliams also, so that they were all tried together.

In Williams's case the evidence was as particular as in Gow's, andDobson and the other swore positively that Williams boasted that afterMacCauly had cut the super-cargo's throat imperfectly, he (Williams)murdered him, and added that he would not give him time to say hisprayers, but shot him through the head. Phinnes and Timothy Murphytestified the same, and to show the bloody disposition of this wretch,William Booth testified that Williams proposed afterwards to the companythat if they took any more ships they should not encumber themselveswith the men, having already so many prisoners that in case of a fightthey should not be safe with them; but that they should take them andtie them, back to back, and throw them all overboard into the sea.

It should not be omitted here also in the case of Gow himself (as I haveobserved in the introduction) that Gow had long meditated the kind ofvillainy which he now put in practice, and that it was his resolution toturn pirate the first opportunity he should get, whatever voyage heundertook, and that I observed he had intended it on board a ship inwhich he came home from Lisbon, and failed only for want of a sufficientparty. So this resolution of his is confirmed by the testimony andconfession of James Belvin, one of his fellow-criminals, who upon trialdeclared that he knew that Gow and the crew of the _George_ galley had adesign to turn pirates from the beginning, and added that he discoveredit to George Dobson, in Amsterdam, before the ship went out to sea. Forthe confirmation of this, George Dobson was called up again, after hehad given his evidence upon the trials, and being confronted by Belvin,he did acknowledge that Belvin had said so, and that in particular hehad said that the boatswain had a design to murder the master and someothers and run away with the ship. Being asked why he did notimmediately reveal it to the master, Captain Ferneau, he answered thathe heard Belvin tell the mate of it, and that the mate told the captain;but the captain made light of it. But the boatswain finding himselfdiscovered, refused to go, upon which Gow was made second mate, andBelvin was made boatswain; an he had been as honest afterwards asbefore (whereas on the contrary, he was as forward and active as any ofthem, except that he was not in the first secret nor in the murders), hemight have escaped what afterwards became so justly his due. But as theyacted together, Justice required that they should suffer together, andaccordingly, Gow and Williams, Belvin, Melvin, Winter, Peterson,Rowlinson and MacCauly, received the reward of their cruelty and bloodat the gallows, being all executed together on the eleventh of June.

It happened that Gow being a very strong man, and giving a kind ofspring, it so strained the rope that, on some people pulling him by thelegs, it broke and he fell down, after he had remained about fourminutes suspended. His fall stunned him a little, but as soon as he wastaken up, he recovered himself so far as to be able to ascend the laddera second time, which he did with very little concern, dying with thesame brutal ferocity which animated all his actions while alive. Hisbody hangs in chains over against Greenwich, as that of Williams doesover against Blackwall.

FOOTNOTES:

[102] The most northerly of the islands.

[103] The word is here used in its original sense, indicating something acquired by seeking--or hunting--_pour chasser._

[104] The island of Carrick.

[105] According to Johnson's _History of the Pirates_ (Chap. XVIII) Gow's real motive for returning to the Orkneys was to wed a girl whose parents had repulsed him on account of his poverty. She was the daughter of one Mr. G----, a well-to-do man.

[106] One of these humane arguments, according to Johnson, _op. cit._, consisted in tying his thumbs together with whipcord, "which was done several times by the executioner and another officer; they drawing the cord until it broke."

APPENDIX

_Although the several histories which are related within the compass ofthis Appendix do not so properly fall under the general title of thiswork (most of them having fallen out in a period of time long beforethat to which I have fixed the beginning of these memoirs of theunfortunate victims to public justice) yet there are two reasons whichdetermined me to give these narratives a place in this collection. Thefirst is that the wonders of Providence signalized in these transactionsmight hereby be recorded and preserved to posterity; and the other, thatfrom the perusal the wicked might be deterred from pursuing theirvicious courses, from the prospect of those sudden, dreadful, andunexpected strokes which the best hid criminal practices have met withfrom the unsearchable conduct of Divine Justice. And as these argumentshad weight enough with me to engage me to the performance of this work,so I hope they will also incline my readers to peruse them with thatimprovement and delight which I have ever aimed to excite in the courseof my labours._

A true and perfect account of the examination, confession, trial,condemnation and execution, of JOHN PERRY, his mother and brother, forthe supposed murder of WILLIAM HARRISON, Gent.

Upon Thursday, the 6th of August, 1660, William Harrison, steward to theLady Viscount Campden, at Campden in Gloucester, being about seventyyears of age, walked from Campden aforesaid to Charringworth, about twomiles from thence, to receive his lady's rent; and not returning soearly as formerly, his wife, Mrs. Harrison, between eight and nineo'clock in the evening, sent her servant John Perry, to meet his masteron the way from Charringworth. But neither Mr. Harrison nor his servantJohn Perry returning that night, early the next morning Edward Harrison,William's son, went towards Charringworth to enquire after his father.On the way he met Perry coming thence, and being informed by him that hewas not there, they went together to Ebrington, a village betweenCharringworth and Campden, where they were told by one Daniel, that Mr.Harrison called at his house the evening before, in his return fromCharringworth, but stayed not. Then they went to Paxford, about half amile from thence, where hearing nothing of Mr. Harrison, they returnedtowards Campden. And on the way hearing of a hat, band and a comb, takenup on the highway between Ebrington and Campden, by a poor woman thenleasing [gleaning] in the field, they sought her out. With her theyfound the hat, band and comb, which they knew to be Mr. Harrison's; andbeing brought by the woman to the place where she found the same, in thehighway between Ebrington and Campden, near unto a great furze-brake,they there searched for Mr. Harrison, supposing he had been murdered,the hat and the comb being hacked and cut, and the band bloody, butnothing more could there be found. The news hereof coming to Campden, soalarmed the town that the men, women and children hasted thence inmultitudes to search for Mr. Harrison's supposed dead body, but all invain.

Mrs. Harrison's fears for her husband were now much increased, andhaving sent her servant Perry the evening before to meet his master, andhe not returning that night, caused a suspicion that he had robbed andmurdered him. Thereupon the said Perry was the next day brought before aJustice of the Peace; by whom being examined concerning his master'sabsence, and his own staying out the night he went to meet him, gavethis account of himself. That his mistress sending him to meet hismaster, between eight and nine o'clock in the evening, he went downCampden Field towards Charringworth about a land's length,[107] wheremeeting one William Read of Campden, he acquainted him with his errand,and farther told him that as it was growing dark he was afraid to goforwards, and would therefore return and fetch his young master's horseand return with him; he went to Mr. Harrison's court gate, where theyparted. He stayed till one Pierce coming by, he went again with himabout a bow's shot into the fields, and returned with him likewise tohis master's gate, where they also parted; and the said John Perryaverred that he went into his master's hen-roost, where he lay about anhour, but slept not, but when the clock struck twelve, arose and wenttowards Charringworth, until a great mist arising, he lost his way, andso lay the rest of the night under a hedge. At break of day on Fridaymorning he went to Charringworth, where he enquired for his master ofone Edward Plaisterer, who told him he had been with him the afternoonbefore, and received three-and-twenty pounds of him, but stayed not longwith him. He went to William Curtis of the same town, who told him heheard his master was at his house the day before, but being not at home,did not see him. After which he said he returned homewards, it beingabout five o'clock in the morning, when on the way he met his master'sson, with whom he went to Ebrington and Paxford, etc. Curtis beingexamined, affirmed what Perry had said concerning them to be true.

Perry then being asked by the Justice of Peace how he, who was afraid togo to Charringworth at nine o'clock, became so bold as to go thither attwelve, answered that at nine o'clock it was dark, but at twelve themoon shone. Being further asked why returning twice home after hismistress had sent him to meet his master, and staying until twelve ofthe clock, he went not into the house to know whether his master wascome, before he went a third time, at that time of night to look afterhim, he answered that he knew his master was not at home, because he sawa light in his chamber window, which never used to be there so late whenhe was at home.

Yet notwithstanding this that Perry had said about staying forth thatnight, it was not thought fit to discharge him until further enquiry wasmade after Mr. Harrison, and accordingly he continued in custody atCampden, sometimes in an inn there, and sometimes in the common prison,from Saturday, August the 18th, to the Friday following; during whichtime he was again examined at Campden, by the aforesaid Justice ofPeace, but confessed nothing more than before, nor at that time couldany further discovery be made as to what was become of Mr. Harrison. Butit hath been said that during his restraint at Campden he told some (whopressed him to confess what he knew concerning his master) that a tinkerhad killed him; and to others he said that a gentleman's servant of theneighbourhood had robbed and murdered him; and others, again, he toldthat he was murdered and hid in a bean-rick in Campden, where search wasin vain made for him. At length he gave out that if he was again carriedbefore the Justice, he would discover that to him which he would not doto anybody else; and thereupon he was, on Friday, August the 24th, againbrought before the Justice of Peace, who first examined him. And askinghim whether he would confess what had become of his master, he answeredhe was murdered but not by him. The Justice of Peace then telling himthat if he knew him to be murdered, he knew likewise by whom he was, sohe acknowledged he did, and being urged to confess what he knewconcerning it, affirmed that it was his mother and brother that hadmurdered his master. The Justice of Peace then advised him to considerwhat he said, telling him that he feared he might be guilty of hismaster's death, and that he should not draw more innocent blood upon hishead, for what he now charged his mother and brother with might costthem their lives. But he affirming he spoke nothing but the truth, andthat if he were immediately to die he would justify it, the Justicedesired him to declare how, and when they did it.

He then told him that ever since he came into his master's service hismother and brother had lain at him to help them to money, telling himhow poor they were, and that it was in his power to relieve them bygiving them notice when his master went to receive his lady's rents, forthey would then waylay him and rob him. And further, he said that uponthe Thursday morning, when his master went to Charringworth, going on anerrand into the town, he met his brother in the street, whom he thentold whither his master was going, and if he waylaid him he might havehis money; and further said, that in the evening when his mistress senthim to meet his master, he met his brother in the street before hismaster's gate, going as he said to meet his master, and so they wenttogether to the churchyard, about a stone's throw from Mr. Harrison'sgate, where they parted. He going the footway beyond the church, theymet again, and so went together the way leading to Charringworth, untilthey came to a gate about a bow's shot from Campden church that goesinto a ground of the Lady Campden's, called the Conygree, which tothose who have a key to go through the garden, is the nearest from thatplace to Mrs. Harrison's house. When they came near unto that gate, he(the said John Perry) said he told his brother that he believed hismaster was just gone into the Conygree (for it was then so dark theycould not discern any man, so as to know him). But perceiving there wasno way but for those who had a key through the gardens, he concluded itwas his master who had gone through, and so told his brother if hefollowed him, he might have his money, and he in the meantime, wouldwalk a turn in the fields. Which accordingly he did, and then followedhis brother. About the middle of the Conygree, he found his master onthe ground, his brother upon him, and his mother standing by. Beingasked whether his master was dead, he answered, No, for that after hecame to them, his master cried, _Ah, rogues! Will you kill me?_ At whichhe told his brother he hoped he would not kill his master; his brotherreplied, _Peace, peace, you're a fool_; and so strangled him. Whichhaving done, he took a bag of money out of his pocket, and threw it intohis mother's lap; and then he and his brother carried his master's deadbody into the garden, adjoining to the Conygree, where they consultedwhat to do with it, and at length agreed to throw it into the great poolby Wallington's Mill, behind the garden.

His mother and brother bid him go up to the court next the house, tohearken whether anyone was stirring, and they would throw the body intothe pool; and being asked whether it was there, he said, he knew not,for that he left it in the garden, but his mother and brother said theywould throw it there, and if it was not there, he knew not where it was,for that he returned no more to them, but went into the court gate,which goes into the town. He met with John Pierce with whom he went intothe field, and again returned with him to his master's gate. After whichhe went into the hen-roost, where he lay until twelve o'clock at night,but slept not, and having, when he came from his mother and brother,brought with him his master's hat, band and comb, which he laid in thehen-roost, he carried the said hat, band and comb, and threw them afterhe had given them three or four cuts with his knife, in the highway,where they were after found. And being asked what he intended by sodoing, he said he did it that it might be believed his master had beenthere robbed and murdered. And having thus disposed of his hat, band andcomb, he went towards Charringworth, as hath been related.

Upon this confession and accusation, the Justice of Peace gave order forthe apprehending of Joan and Richard Perry, the mother and brother ofJohn Perry, and for searching the pool where Mr. Harrison's body wassaid to be thrown, which was accordingly done, but nothing of him couldbe found there. The Fish Pools, likewise, in Campden, were drawn andsearched, but nothing could be found there either; so that some were ofopinion that the body might be laid in the ruins of Campden House, burntin the late wars, and not unfit for such a concealment, where waslikewise search made, but all in vain.

On Saturday, August 25th, Joan and Richard Perry, together with JohnPerry, were brought before the Justice of Peace, who acquainted the saidJoan and Richard with what John had lain to their charge. They deniedall, with many imprecations on themselves if they were in the leastguilty of anything of which they were accused, but John on the otherside affirmed to their faces that he had spoken nothing but the truthand that they had murdered his master, further telling them that hecould never be at quiet for them since he came into his master'sservice, being continually followed by them to help them to money (whichthey told him he might do by giving them notice when his master went toreceive his lady's rents), and that meeting his brother Richard inCampden Town, the Thursday morning his master went to Charringworth, hetold him whither he was going, and upon what errand; Richard confessedhe met his brother that morning and spoke with him, but nothing passedbetween them to that purpose. Both he and his mother told John he was avillain to accuse them wrongfully, as he had done, but John on the otherside affirmed that he had spoken nothing but the truth and would justifyit to his death.

One remarkable circumstance happened in these prisoners' return from theJustice's house to Campden, viz., Richard Perry following a gooddistance behind his brother John, pulling a clout out of his pocket,dropped a ball of inkle,[108] which one of his guard taking up, hedesired him to restore it, saying it was only his wife's hair lace; butthe party opening it, and finding a slip knot at the end, went andshowed it unto John, who was then a good distance before and knewnothing of the dropping and taking up of this inkle. Being showed it,and asked whether he knew it, he shook his head and said, yes to hissorrow, for that was the string his brother strangled his master with.This was sworn upon the evidence at their trial.

The morrow being the Lord's day, they remained at Campden, where theminister of the place designing to speak to them, if possible topersuade them to repentance and a farther confession, they were broughtto church; and in their way thither passing by Richard's house, two ofhis children meeting him, he took the lesser in his arm, and was leadingthe other in his hand, when on a sudden both their noses fella-bleeding, which was looked upon as ominous.

Here it will be no impertinent digression to tell how the year before,Mr. Harrison had his house broken open between eleven and twelve o'clockat noon, upon Campden market-day, whilst himself and his whole familywere away, a ladder being set up to a window of the second story, and aniron bar wrenched thence with a ploughshare, which was left in the room,and seven score pounds in money carried away, the authors of whichrobbery could never be found. After this, and not many weeks before Mr.Harrison's absence, one evening in Campden garden his servant Perry madea hideous outcry, whereas some who heard it coming in, met him runningand seemingly affrighted, with a sheep-pick in his hand, to whom he tolda story how he had been set upon by two men in white, with naked swords,and how he defended himself with his sheep-pick, the handle whereof wascut in two or three places, as was likewise a key in his pocket, whichhe said was done with one of their swords.

The passages the Justice of the Peace having before heard, and callingto mind upon Perry's confession, asked him first concerning the robbery,when his master lost seven score pounds out of his house at noon-day,whether he knew who did it? He answered, Yes, it was his brother, andbeing further asked, whether he was with him, he answered, No, he was atchurch, but that he gave him notice of the money, and told him in whichroom it was, and where he might have a ladder, that would reach thewindow; and that his brother after told him he had the money, and hadburied it in his garden, and that they were at Michaelmas next to havedivided it, whereupon search was made in the garden, but no money couldbe there found. And being further asked concerning the other passage, ofhis being assaulted in the garden, he confessed it was all a fiction,and that he did it having a design to rob his master, so that roguesbeing believed to haunt the place, when his master was robbed they mightbe thought to have done it.

At the next assizes, which were held in September following, John, Joanand Richard Perry had two indictments found against them, one forbreaking into William Harrison's house, and robbing him of one hundredand forty pounds, in the year, 1659; the other for robbing and murderingthe said William Harrison on the 16th day of August, 1660. Upon the lastindictment, the judge of the assizes, Sir C. T., would not try them,because the body was not found; but they were then tried upon the otherindictment for robbery, to which they pleaded not guilty. But someonewhispering behind them, they soon pleaded guilty, humbly begging thebenefit of his Majesty's gracious pardon and Act of Oblivion,[109] whichwas granted them. But though they pleaded guilty to their indictment,being thereunto promised (as probable) by some who are unwilling to losetime and trouble the Court with their trial as the Act of Oblivionpardoned them; yet they all afterwards and at their death, denied thatthey were guilty of that robbery, or that they knew who did it. Yet athis assize, as several credible persons have affirmed, John Perry stillpersisted in his story that his mother and brother had murdered hismaster, and further added that they had attempted to poison him in gaol,so that he durst neither eat nor drink with them.

At the next assizes, which was held the Spring following, John, Joan andRichard Perry were by the then judge of assize, Sir B. H., tried uponthe indictment of murder, and pleaded thereunto severally not guilty.And when John's confession before the Justice was proved, _viva voce_,by several witnesses who heard the same, he told them he was then madand knew not what he said. The other two, Richard and Joan Perry, saidthey were wholly innocent of what they were accused, and that they knewnothing of Mr. Harrison's death, nor what was become of him; and Richardsaid that his brother had accused others as well as him of havingmurdered his master, which the judge bidding him prove, he said thatmost of those who had given evidence against him knew it, but namingnone, nor did any speak to it. And so the jury found them all threeguilty.

Some few days after being brought to the place of their execution, whichwas on Broadway Hill, in sight of Campden, the mother, who was reputed awitch and to have bewitched her sons, so that they would confess nothingwhile she lived, was executed first. After which, Richard being upon theladder, professed as he had done all along that he was wholly innocentof the fact for which he was then to die, and that he knew nothing ofMr. Harrison's death, nor what was become of him, and did with greatearnestness beg and beseech his brother, for the satisfaction of thewhole world and for his own conscience, to declare what he knewconcerning him. But he, with a dogged and surly carriage, told thepeople he was not obliged to confess to them; yet immediately before hisdeath, he said he knew nothing of his master's death, nor what hadbecome of him but they might hereafter possibly hear.

Mr. Harrison's account of his being absent two years, and of his returnhome, addressed to Sir Thomas Overbery, Knight

Honoured Sir,

In obedience to your commands, I give you this true account of my being carried away beyond the seas, my continuance there and return home.

On Thursday, in the afternoon, in the time of harvest, I went to Charringworth to demand rents due to my Lady Campden, at which the tenants were busy in the fields, and were late ere they came home, which occasioned my stay there till the close of the evening. I expected a considerable sum, but received only twenty-three pounds and no more. In my return home, in the narrow passages amongst Ebrington Furzes, there met me one horseman, and said, _Art thou there?_ and I, fearing that he would have rode over me, struck his horse over the nose, whereupon he struck me with his sword several blows, and ran it into my side, while I with my little cane made my defence as well as I could. At last another came behind me, ran me in the thigh, laid hold on the collar of my doublet, and drew me to a hedge near to the place. Then came in another. They did not take away my money, but mounted me behind one of them, drew my arms about his middle, and fastened my wrists together with something that had a spring lock to it, as I conceived, by hearing it give a snap as they put it on; then they threw a great cloak over me and carried me away.

In the night, they alighted at a hayrick, which stood near unto a stone pit, by a wall side, where they took away my money. This was about two hours before day, as I heard one of them tell the other he thought it to be then. They tumbled me into the stone pit. They stayed, as I thought, about an hour at the hayrick. When they took horse again, one of them bade me come out of the pit. I answered they had my money already, and asked what they would do with me, whereupon he struck me again, drew me out, and put a great quantity of money into my pockets, and mounted me again, after the same manner. And on Friday, about sunset, they brought me to a lone house upon a heath, by a thicket of bushes, where they took me down, almost dead, being sorely bruised with the carriage of the money. When the woman of the house saw that I could neither stand nor speak, she asked them whether or no they had brought a dead man? They answered, no, but a friend that was hurt, and they were carrying me to a surgeon. She answered, if they did not make haste their friend would be dead before they could bring him to one. There they laid me on the cushions and suffered none to come into the room but a little girl. There we stayed all night, they giving me some broth and strong waters.

In the morning, very early, they mounted me as before, and on Saturday night, they brought me to a place where were two or three houses, in one of which I lay all night on cushions by their bedside. On Sunday morning they carried me from thence, and about three or four of the clock, they brought me to a place by the seaside, called Deal, where they laid me down in the ground. One of them staying by me, the other two walked a little off to meet a man, with whom they talked; and in their discourse I heard them mention seven pounds, after which they went away together, and about half an hour after returned. The man (whose name, as I after heard, was Wrenshaw) said he feared I would die before they could put me on board; then they put me into a boat, and carried me on ship-board, where my wounds were dressed.

I remained in the ship, as near as I could reckon, about six weeks, in which time I was indifferently recovered of my wounds and weaknesses. Then the master of the ship came in and told me and the rest who were in the same condition, that he discovered three Turkish ships. We all offered to fight in defence of the ship and ourselves, but he commanded us to keep close, and said he would deal with them well enough. A little while after, he called us up, and when we came on deck we saw two Turkish ships close by us; into one of them we were put, and placed in a dark hold, where how long we continued before we were landed, I know not.

When we were landed they led us two days' journey, and put us into a great house or prison, where we remained four days and a half, and then came to us eight men to view us, who seemed to be officers. They called us and examined us of our trades and callings, which everyone answered. One said he was a surgeon, another that he was a broad-cloth weaver, and I, after two or three demands, said I had some skill in physic. We three were set by, and taken by three of these eight men who came to view us. It was my chance to be chosen by a grave physician of eighty-seven years of age, who lived near to Smyrna, who had formerly been in England, and knew Crowland in Lincolnshire, which he preferred before all others in England. He employed me to keep his still-house, and gave me a silver bowl, double gilt, to drink in. My business was most in that place, but once he set me to gather cotton wool, which I not doing he struck me to the ground, and after drew his stiletto to stab me; but I holding up my hands to him, he gave me a stamp and turned from me, for which I render thanks to my Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, who stayed his hand and preserved me.

I was there about a year and three quarters, and then my master fell sick on a Thursday, and sent for me, and calling me, as he used, by the name of Bell, told me he should die and bid me shift for myself. He died on the Saturday following, and I instantly hastened with my bowl[110] to a port almost a day's journey distant, the way to which place I knew, having been twice there employed by my master about the carriage of the cotton wool. When I came thither I addressed myself to two men who came out of a ship of Hamburg, which, as they said, was bound for Portugal within three or four days. I enquired of them for an English ship, they answered there was none. I entreated them to take me into their ship, but they answered they durst not, for fear of being discovered by the searchers, which might occasion the forfeiture, not only of their goods, but also of their lives. I was very importunate with them, but could not prevail. They left me to wait on Providence, which at length brought me another out of the same ship, to whom I made known my condition, craving his assistance for my transportation. He made me the like answer as the former, and was as stiff in his denial, until the sight of my bowl put him to pause. He returned to the ship, and after an hour's space came back again accompanied with another seaman, and for my bowl, undertook to transport me; but he told me I must be contented to lie down in the keel and endure much hardship, which I was content to do to gain my liberty.

So they took me on board, and placed me below in the vessel, in a very uneasy place, and obscured me with boards and other things, where I lay undiscovered, notwithstanding the strict search that was made in the vessel. My two chapmen who had my bowl, honestly furnished me with victuals daily, until we arrived at Lisbon in Portugal, where, as soon as the master had left the ship and was gone into the city, they set me on shore moneyless, to shift for myself. I knew not what course to take, but as Providence led me, I went up into the city, and came into a fair street, and being weary I turned my back to a wall, and leaned upon my staff. Over against me were four gentlemen discoursing together; after a while one of them came to me, and spake to me in a language that I understood not. I told him I was an Englishman and understood not what he spoke. He answered me in plain English, that he understood me, and was himself born in Wisbech, in Lincolnshire. Then I related to him my sad condition, and he taking compassion on me, took me with him, provided me with lodging and diet, and by his interest with a master of a ship bound for England, procured my passage; and bringing me on ship board, he bestowed wine and strong waters on me, and at his return gave me eight stivers and commended me to the care of the master of the ship, who landed me safe at Dover. From thence I made a shift to get to London, where being furnished with necessaries I came into the country.

Thus, honoured Sir, I have given you a true account of my great sufferings and happy deliverance by the mercy and goodness of God, my most gracious Father in Jesus Christ, my Saviour and Redeemer, to whose name be ascribed all honour, praise and glory. I conclude and rest,

Your Worship's, In all dutiful respect, William Harrison

Before I part with this story, it is proper for me to remark that thoughit does not contain any extraordinary mark of the wisdom of Providence,yet being in its nature strange and hitherto having escaped any othercollection, I thought it not improper to be preserved here, since someof the circumstances are of such a nature as not to be paralleled in anyEnglish story.

FOOTNOTES:

[107] A local term for a strip of furrowed land.

[108] A kind of broad linen tape.

[109] Passed at the Restoration, in 1660, granting "free general pardon, indemnity, and oblivion for all treasons and state offences" committed between 1 Jan., 1637, and 24 June, 1660. The regicides and certain Irish priests were excepted.

[110] That is, the silver-gilt one his master had given him.

A Relation of the Surprising Discovery of the Murder of MARY BARWICK,committed by WILLIAM BARWICK, her husband, on the 14th of April, 1690,upon which he was convicted, at the Lent Assizes at York, before theHonourable Sir John Powell, Knight, then one of the Judges of Assize

In the following relation, I have kept strictly up to the motives whichI have mentioned in the beginning of this Appendix, and I hope that willatone for the inserting of this story, which I confess can be of noother use than to gratify the curiosity of the reader.

As murder is one of the greatest crimes that man can be guilty of, so itis no less strangely and providentially discovered when secretlycommitted. The foul criminal believes himself secure, because there wasno witness of the fact. Not considering that the all-seeing eye ofHeaven beholds his iniquity, and by some means or other bringing it tolight, never permits it to go unpunished. Indeed, so certainly does therevenge of God pursue the abominated murderer, that when witnesses arewanting of the fact, the very ghosts of the murdered parties cannot restquiet in their graves until they have made the detection themselves. Ofthis we are now to give the reader two remarkable examples that latelyhappened in Yorkshire, and no less signal for the truth of bothtragedies, as being confirmed by the trial of the offenders at the lastassizes held for that county.

The first of these murders was committed by William Barwick, upon thebody of Mary Barwick his wife, at the same time big with child. Whatwere the motives that induced the man to do this horrid fact does notappear by the examination of the evidence, or the confession of theparty; only it appeared upon his trial that he had got her with childbefore he married her, that being then constrained to marry her, he grewweary of her, which was the reason he was so willing to be rid of her,though he ventured body and soul to accomplish his design.

The murder was committed on Palm Monday, being then the fourteenth ofApril, about two o'clock in the afternoon, at which time the saidBarwick drilled his wife along until he came to a certain close, withinsight of Cawood Castle, where he found the conveniency of a pond. Hethrew her by force into the water, and when she was drowned and drawnforth again by himself upon the bank of the pond, he had the cruelty tobehold the motion of the infant, yet warm in her womb. This done, heconcealed the body, as it may readily be supposed, among the bushes thatusually encompass a pond, and the next night when it grew dusk, fetchinga hay spade from a rick that stood in the close, he made a hole by theside of the pond, and there slightly buried the woman in her clothes.Having thus despatched two at once, and thinking himself secure, becauseunseen, he went the same day to his brother-in-law, one Thomas Lofthouseof Rusforth, within three miles of York, who had married his drownedwife's sister, and told him he had carried his wife to one RichardHarrison's house in Selby, who was his uncle, and would take care ofher.

But Heaven would not be so deluded, but raised up the ghost of themurdered woman to make the discovery. It was Easter Tuesday following,about two-o'clock in the afternoon, that the afore-mentioned Lofthouse,having occasion to water a quickset hedge not far from his house, as hewas going for the second pailful, an apparition went before him in theshape of a woman, and soon after set down against a rising green grassplot, right over against the pond. He walked by her as he went to thepond, and as he returned with the pail from the pond, looking sidewaysto see whether she continued in the same place, he found she did, andthat she seemed to dandle something in her lap that looked like a whitebag, as he thought, which he did not observe before. So soon as he hademptied his pail, he went into his yard and stood still to turn whetherhe could see her again, but she was vanished. In this information hesays that the woman seemed to be habited in a brown-coloured petticoat,waistcoat and a white hood, such a one as his wife's sister usuallywore, and that her countenance looked extremely pale and wan, with herteeth in sight, but no gums appearing, and that her physiognomy was likethat of his wife's sister, who was wife to William Barwick.

But notwithstanding the ghastliness of the apparition, it seems it madeso little impression on Lofthouse's mind that he thought no more of it,neither did he speak to anybody concerning it until the same night, ashe was at family duty of prayers, when that apparition returned again tohis thoughts, and discomposed his devotion; so that after he had made anend of his prayers, he told the whole story of what he had seen to hiswife, who laying circumstances together, immediately inferred that hersister was either drowned or otherwise murdered, and desired her husbandto look after her the next day, which was the Wednesday in Easter week.Upon this, Lofthouse, recollecting what Barwick had told him of hiscarrying his wife to his uncle at Selby, repaired to Harrisonbefore-mentioned, but found all that Barwick had said to be false, forHarrison had neither heard of Barwick nor his wife, neither did he knowanything of them. Which notable circumstance, together with that otherof the apparition, increased his suspicion to that degree that nowconcluding his wife's sister was murdered, he went to the Lord Mayor ofYork. And having obtained his warrant, he got Barwick apprehended; whowas no sooner brought before the Lord Mayor, but his own conscience thenaccusing him, he acknowledged the whole matter, as it has been alreadyrelated, and as it appears by the examination and confession herewithprinted.

On Wednesday, the 16th of September, 1690, the criminal, WilliamBarwick, was brought to his trial before the Honourable Sir John Powel,Knight, one of the judges of the Northern Circuit, at the assizes heldat York, where the prisoner pleaded not guilty to his indictment. Butupon the evidence of Thomas Lofthouse and his wife, and a third person,that the woman was found buried in her clothes, close by the pond side,agreeable to the prisoner's confession, and that she had severalbruises on her head, occasioned by the blows the murderer had given herto keep her under water, and upon reading the prisoner's confessionbefore the Lord Mayor of York, attested by the clerk who wrote theconfession, and who swore the prisoner's owning and signing it fortruth, he was found guilty and sentenced to death, and afterwardsordered to be hanged in chains.

All the defence that the prisoner made was only this, that he wasthreatened into the confession that he had made, and was in such aconsternation that he did not know what he said or did; but then it wassworn to by two witnesses that there was no such thing as anythreatening made use of, but that he made a free and voluntaryconfession, only with this addition at first, that he told the LordMayor he had sold his wife for five shillings, but not being able toname either the person or the place, where she might be produced, thatwas looked upon as too frivolous to outweigh circumstances that were tooapparent.

The Examination of William Barwick, taken the 25th of April, 1690

Who sayeth and confesseth that he carried his wife over a certain wainbridge, called Bishop Dyke Bridge, between Cawood and Sherburn; and within a lane about one hundred yards from the said bridge, and on the left hand of the said bridge, he and his wife went over a stile, on the left hand of a certain gate, entering into a certain close, on the left hand of the said lane; and in a pond in the said close, adjoining to a quick-wood hedge, he did drown his wife and upon a bank of the said pond did bury her, and further, that he was within sight of Cawood Castle, on the left hand, and there was but one hedge betwixt the said close where he drowned his wife, and the Bishops Slates, belonging to the said castle.

William Barwick _Exam, capt. did etc. anno super dict. coram me._

_S. Dawson, Mayor_

An Account of the Conviction and Execution of Mr. WALKER, and MARKSHARP, for the Murder of ANN WALKER

I am conscious that my collecting these relations may expose me to therailery and ridicule of a very numerous tribe of wits in this age, whovalue themselves extremely on their contempt of supernatural stories,and their disbelief of all things which relate to apparitions or returnsfrom that state in which souls go when they depart from the body. Yetthe following story is so remarkable, the proofs so exceedingly cogent,and the mistakes made in the relation of it by various authors solikely, notwithstanding, to bring it in the course of time intodiscredit, that I thought I could not do a greater service to the publicthan to preserve it in its genuine purity, which I have had occasion toretrieve from the sight of some papers which related thereto, and fromwhich the following account is written verbatim, without any alterationso much as in a letter.

About the year 1631, there lived in a place calledChester-in-the-Street, in the County Palatine of Durham, one Mr. Walker,a yeoman of good fortune and credit. He was a widower and kept a youngwoman, one Ann Walker, a relation of his, in his house as housekeeper.It was suspected, it seems, by some of the neighbours, that she was withchild, immediately upon which she was removed to one Dame Cair's an auntof hers in the town of Lumley, hard by. The old woman treated her withmuch kindness and civility, but was exceedingly earnest to know of herwho was the father of the child with which she went, but the young womanconstantly avoided answering that question. But at last, perceiving howuneasy the old woman was because she could get no knowledge how the poorbabe was to be provided for, this Ann Walker at last said that he whogot her with child would take care of both her and it, with which answerher aunt was tolerably satisfied.

Some time after, of an evening, her old master Walker, and one MarkSharp, with whom he was extraordinarily intimate, came to her aunt'shouse and took the said Anne Walker away. About a fortnight passedwithout her being seen or heard of, and without much talk of theneighbourhood concerning her, supposing she had been carried somewhereto be privately brought to bed, in order to escape her shame. But oneJames Graham, a miller, who lived two miles from the place whereWalker's house was, being one night between the hours of twelve and one,grinding corn in his mill, and the mill door shut, as he came downstairsfrom putting corn into the hopper, he saw a woman standing in themiddle of the floor, with her hair all bloody, hanging about her ears,and five large wounds in her head. Graham, though he was a bold man, wasexceedingly shocked at this spectacle. At last after calling upon God toprotect him, he, in a low voice, demanded who she was, and what shewanted of him. To which the woman made answer, _I am the spirit of AnneWalker, who lived with Walker at Chester-in-the-Street, and being gotwith child by him, he promised to send me to a private place, where Ishould be well looked to until I was brought to bed, and well again, andthen I should come to him again and keep his house. And I wasaccordingly, late one night, sent away with Mark Sharp, who upon themoor, just by the Yellow Bank Head, slew me with a pick, an instrumentwherewith they dig coals, and gave me these five wounds, and afterwardsthrew me into a coalpit hard by, and hid the pick under the bank. Hisshoes and stockings also being bloody he endeavoured to wash them, butseeing the blood would not go forth, he hid them there too. And nowJames Grime_ (so the country people pronounce Graham) _I am come to you,that by revealing this bloody act my murderers may be brought tojustice; which unless you do, I will continually pursue and haunt you._

The miller returned home to his house very melancholy, and muchastonished at this sight, yet he held his peace, hoping that if he didnot reveal it she would go to somebody else. He was fearful of blastingthe character of Mr. Walker, who was a man of substance, by telling sucha tale concerning him to a Justice of Peace. However, he avoided as muchas he was able being in the mill alone, especially at nights, butnotwithstanding all his care, and though other persons were not far off,she appeared to him there again, and in a harsh tone demanded why he hadnot made known what she had spoken of to him. He made her no answer, butfled to the other end of the place where the people were. Yet somelittle time after, just after sunset, she met him in his own garden, andspoke to him with such a cruel aspect and with such fearful threats thathe promised to go the next morning to a magistrate, which he accordinglydid.

On the morrow, being St. Thomas's Day, he applied to a justice of thepeace and told him the story. The justice having tendered him his oath,and taking his information in writing, forthwith issued his warrant, andapprehended Mr. Walker and Mark Sharp, who by trade was a collier, i.e.,dug coals out of a mine. They made light of the thing before thejustice, although he in the meanwhile had caused a place which Grahamsaid the apparition had spoken of, to be searched, and there found thedead body, wounded in place and manner as before described, with thepick, the shoes and the stockings. However, Walker and Sharp wereadmitted to bail, and at the next assizes appeared upon their trial.

Judge Davenport heard the several circumstances of the woman's beingcarried out by Sharp, her being suspected to be with child by hermaster, Walker, and the story which Graham repeated exactly upon oath,as he had done before the justice. The foreman of the jury did deposethat he saw a child standing upon the shoulders of the prisoner Walker,at the Bar, and the judge himself was under such a concern anduneasiness that as soon as the jury had found the prisoners guilty, heimmediately rose up and passed sentence of death upon them, a thingnever known before nor since in Durham, the custom being not to passsentence until the close of the assizes.

The Life of JACQUES PERRIER, a French Robber and Murderer

As I have stepped in the former stories a little back in time, so inthis I shall make bold to go out of our own nation, to relate a veryextraordinary passage which happened at Paris in the beginning of thelast century, because it will serve as a notable instance of thatconfusion and fear which guilt brings over the souls of the mosthardened villains and thereby renders them often instruments of justiceupon themselves; so that it seems not virtue only is its own reward, butvice also brings upon itself those torments which it ought to feel. ThusProvidence ordereth, with inscrutable wisdom, that every man should feelhappiness or misery according as his own demeanour serves. But it is nowtime that we hearken to the story.

It happened that a certain architect, who was in high esteem with thegreatest nobles in France for his excellent skill in building after theItalian model, and had thereby obtained both a great reputation and alarge estate, being a generous and charitable man, took into his houseone Jacques Perrier, in the nature of an accountant, for the betterordering of his affairs. For the six years that this Jacques lived inhis master's house, never any man was known to behave better or morecommendably than he did. At length he married and had children, so thatthe master looking upon him as a staid discreet person, of whosefidelity he had indubitable proofs; he therefore gave him the charge ofeverything, when he went to a country house of his, a small distancefrom Paris, where he sometimes stayed for a week or so to unbend hismind and enjoy the benefit of the summer season.

At last, Jacques observing what great wealth he had acquired, began tobe covetous and desirous of obtaining it; and after having cast it longin his head how he might obtain it, he at length resolved with himselfto join with certain villains who at that time robbed in the streets andcommitted murders on the roads about Paris. Gaining notice of a housewhere such people frequented, he found ways and means to be admittedinto the room where they had their consultations. And the person whointroduced him having promised for his fidelity, they listened veryattentively to the proposal which he promised to make them, and whichafter a little pause, he performed in these words. _My good friends, itis now upwards of six years since I have lived in the service of a richand eminent person. I thought that before this time I might have made myfortune under him, and therefore have hitherto served him faithfully andhonestly; but finding my expectations herein deceived, I come to makeyou an offer which may enrich you all. He has a house in the country,whither he retires with his daughter and maid-servant only. These mayeasily be dispatched and then all his effects will be our own. I willventure to assure you, they will be worth ten thousand crowns._

The thieves were not a little rejoiced at the thoughts of soextraordinary a booty, and therefore, after returning Perrier thanks,they readily embraced his motion and promised him whatever assistance heshould require. It was not long before the unfortunate, gentleman went,as usual, with his daughter and her maid, to enjoy the pleasures of hisrural habitation, leaving the direction of his affairs to Jacques, whono sooner saw him safe out of Paris, but he went to give notice to hisassociates that the time was now come to execute his bloody proposal.They quickly got all things in readiness, and as soon as it was evening,set out under the command of this desperate varlet to commit thathorrible murder which he had contrived. Arriving at the house, Perrierknocked at the door; the maid knowing him, supposed some extraordinarybusiness had brought him thither, and readily opened the door. But shewas exceedingly surprised to find him followed by five ruffians oddlydressed, masked and with large staves in their hands. However, they didnot give her much time to consider, but followed her immediately intothe kitchen, where, by the direction of their abominable leader, theyimmediately, with many cruel blows, put her to death. From thence theywent upstairs into the old gentleman's apartment, and found him sittingupon his bed. As soon as they entered, _Perrier_, said his master, _isit thus that you return that kindness with which I have always treatedyou. Did I not take you from misery and want. Have I not maintained you,and put it in your power to maintain your family? Will you repay this mycharity with robbing me of all I have? Must the tenderness I have showntowards you draw upon me death from your hands, and do you not thinkthat the same God who hath seen me cherish and relieve you, will notbring upon you condign punishment for this execrable villainy thou artgoing to commit?_

Perrier was sensible of the truth of what he said, but knowing it wasimpossible for him to go back, he gave a sign to the murderers to fallabout the execution of their work; but the old man, who was too wise toexpect mercy from their hands, endeavoured to lay hold of a halbertwhich stood in his room, designing therewith, as well as he could, todefend himself. But before he could get it into his hands the villainsstruck him down, and with thirty or forty wounds gave a passage for hissoul into a better life.

The unfortunate young lady lay in the next room to her father's, andbeing already got to bed, heard with astonishment the execrable fact.However, full of fear and astonishment, she covered herself with the bedclothes, and endeavoured all she was able, to hide herself in the bed.But alas, her caution was to small purpose. Perrier knew too well thesituation of all things to be deceived by so trivial an artifice, andtherefore after pulling the bedclothes into the middle of the floor, heexposed, naked, to his fellow ruffians, the most beautiful young lady inFrance. In vain she fell upon her knees, and with all that tenderelocution so natural to their sex when in distress, besought them thatthey would spare her life, which, as she said, could be of no benefit tothem, and could only serve to increase the number of their sins; butthey were too much flushed in cruelty and blood to give any attention toher entreaties, and so without respect either to the softness of hersex, or to her tender age, with a shower of blows from their clubs theylaid her dead upon the floor. Being thus become master of the house,Perrier took the keys, and opening the several apartments, disclosed tothem all the riches of his deceased master. They immediately broughtaway all the ready money they found in the house, which amounted tolittle less than ten thousand crowns. All the rich movables theyconveyed away to a boat which they had prepared for that purpose, andhad fastened in a creek of the river on a bank of which the house stood.They loaded and unloaded this vessel five or six times, for there was nohurry in carrying away the goods, seeing it was the dead time of thenight, and when they had thoroughly plundered it of everything thatwould yield money, they then came away and went to the place where theylaid up their spoils. There it was resolved to divide the booty, andPerrier claimed the largest share, as well in right of his having putthem upon that project, as that he had assisted more strenuously in theexecution of it than any of them; for when men associate themselves tocommit wickedness, he who surpasses the rest in villainy claims the samereward, and from the same reasons, as he who in another societysurpasses all his neighbours in virtue. When this execrable fact wasover, and he had secured his share in the plunder, he returned home tothe house of his master, and remained in carrying on the ordinary courseof business of his master.

About two days after, it happened that a man who had business with theold gentleman called at his country house, and after knocking a goodwhile at the door, finding that nobody answered, he went to town, andmeeting with Jacques Perrier at his master's house, he told him of hiscalling upon him in the country, and that he found nobody there. Jacquescounterfeited the greatest surprise at the news, and calling manyassistants, went down immediately to his master's seat, and with all theseeming horror imaginable, became a second time a witness of thosebarbarities which he and his villainous associates had committed. At thesight of the murdered maid in the kitchen, he cried out with thegreatest vehemence, and seemed in an agony of sorrow; but when he sawthe body of his master, he roared and stamped, he cried out, tore hishair and threw himself upon the body as if he had never more intended tohave drawn breath. All the persons he had carried with him wereeffectually deceived by his behaviour, and were under apprehensions lesthis too violent grief should throw him into a fever or prompt him to layhands upon himself. He was not contented with acting thus upon the spot,but resolved to play it over again when he came back to Paris. Thereabundance of people pitied him, and looked on him as one whom thesincere love he had for his master had drawn to the utmost despair byreason of his unfortunate death.

But one of the old gentleman's relations, who was a man of morepenetration than the rest, began to suspect his excessive affliction,and by his arguments drew another gentleman, who was also interested inthe family affairs, to be of his opinion; whereupon Jacques wasapprehended on suspicion and sent to prison. Solitude and confinementare often the roads to repentance and confession, for the vanities ofthe world being no longer before them, in such cases people are apt toretire into the recesses of their own breasts, and having no avocationsfrom considering how they have spent their former years, the reflectionoften extorts truth which would never be by any other methoddiscovered. But it was not so with Perrier. His dissimulation was of astronger contexture, and not to be broken even by sorrow andconfinement. He not only continued to deny the knowledge of the murder,but also to lament the loss of so indulgent a master, with such floodsof tears, and so many strong appearances of real sorrow and affectionthat, no proof appearing against him, the magistrates were afraid ofhaving themselves reproached with injustice if they had not given himhis liberty, to which, after six months imprisonment, he was restored.

The rest of the assassins seeing a long space of time elapsed, and thatstill not the least discovery was made of the murder, laid aside allfears of being taken, and began to appear more openly than hitherto theyhad done since the perpetration of that fact. But in the midst of theirsecurity the Providence of God forced them to betray themselves; for asthe father, son and cousin, who were all concerned in the murder, weresitting with one Masson, another of the confederates, making merry at apublic-house, on a sudden they turned their heads and saw ten or twelvearchers or marshal's men (who have the same authority as constables inour country) who by chance met together and came into the house todrink. Guilt on a sudden struck the whole company with apprehensionsthat they were come in search of them, the fear of which made them throwdown their knives and forks, leave what they had upon the table and flywith the utmost precipitation, as supposing they ran for their lives.

This extravagant behaviour struck the archers with amazement, andimmediately calling for the landlord, they enquired of him what shouldbe the sudden cause of this terror in his guests. He replied that it wasimpossible for him to tell certainly, but from discourse which he hadheard, he took them to be persons of no very honest character, and fromthe great sums of money he had heard them count out, he was apprehensivethat they had committed some robbery or other. There wanted not anyfarther account to stir up the archers to a pursuit, from whence theyalready assured themselves they should be considerable gainers, thething speaking for itself, since honest people are not used to fall intosuch panics; but only guilt creates apprehensions in men at the sight ofthe ministers of justice. Immediately, therefore, the officers pursuedthem in the road they had taken, and the old man being less able totravel than the rest, in about two hours time they came up with him atthe side of a rivulet, where, for very weariness he had stopped as notbeing able to cross it.

No sooner did they come up to him but he surrendered, and fear havingbrought a sudden repentance, he, without any equivocation, began toconfess all the crimes of his life. He said that it was true they all ofthem deserved death, and he was content to suffer; he said, moreover,that in the course of his life he had murdered upwards of three-scorewith his own hands. He also carried the officers to an island in theriver, which was the usual place of the execution of those innocents whofell into the hands of their gang, and acknowledged that of all theoffences he had committed, nothing gave him so much pain as the havingmurdered a hopeful young gentleman (for the sake of a trifle of moneywhich he had about him) by putting a stone about his neck and sinkinghim in the water.

Of the other three, two were apprehended, but the third made his escapeand was running hastily with the news to Jacques Perrier and their othercompanions, but he was soon after seized, and carried to prison with therest, none escaping from the hands of Justice but Masson and the cruelPerrier, the author of all this mischief. The three who were in prisonendured the torture with the greatest constancy, absolutely denying thatthey knew anything of the murders and robberies which had beencommitted, yet when they were confronted by the old man, their couragedeserted them, they acknowledged the fact, and judgment was pronouncedupon them that they should be broke alive upon the wheel, before thehouse of the unfortunate architect whom they had murdered.

When they were brought there, with a strong guard, to suffer thatpunishment to which the Law had so justly doomed them, they appeared tobe very penitent and sorrowful for their crimes, and one of them inparticular did, with greatest vehemency, beseech the pardon of AlmightyGod, of the king his sovereign, and of his people whom he had so muchinjured, declaring that he could not die in peace without informing themultitude who were assembled to behold their execution, of a certainkind of villainy in which he was particularly concerned. He said it washis custom to watch about the sides of the road which lay near thewoods, and that having a cord with him, he suddenly threw it about theneck of any passenger who was coming by, and therewith immediatelystrangled him before he was aware, or capable of resisting them, and ifat any time there came by several passengers together who demanded whathe did there, he replied that he was sent thither by his master to catcha cow; and his going in the habit of a peasant gave such an aspect oftruth to the story that he was never suspected.

Though the concourse of people be generally very great, yet theassembly on this occasion was much larger than ordinary, and those whowere spectators, contrary to the ordinary custom, showed but very littlecompassion at the miserable tortures which those wretches endured. Onthe contrary, they continually cried out that they should discover whatwas become of Perrier and their other accomplice, Masson. Theseunfortunate men continued to assert in their last moments that they knewnothing of either of them, but supposed that, hearing of theirapprehension, they had immediately made their escape, and were retiredas far as they were able from the danger. The people were infinitelysatisfied with the death of these assassins, and nothing was wanting tocomplete the triumph of Justice but the apprehension of Perrier and hisassociate, to whose adventures it is now time that we return, in orderto display the severe justice of Providence, and the admirable methodsby which it disappoints all the courses that human wit can invent inorder to frustrate its intent.

Masson had hid himself in a village not far from the city of Tours,where he concealed himself so effectually that the inhabitants had notthe least suspicion of his being a dishonest man. On the contrary, heapplied himself to an honest way of getting his livelihood, and aftersojourning there for a considerable space, he married a young woman,with the consent of her parents, and seemed to be now established in astate of peace and security, if it were possible for a guilty soul toknow either security or peace. A trivial accident, in which no man butMasson would have had a hand, proved the instrument by which he wasdrawn to suffering that cruel death which his companions had beforeundergone, and he so justly deserved.

There was, it seems, a young country fellow in the neighbourhood whereMasson lived, who was just married, and according to a silly notionwhich prevails not only among the peasants of France but also among theclowns of all other nations in Europe, fancied himself bewitched by somecharm or other, which rendered him incapable of performing the rites ofhis marriage bed. Masson thereupon offered, if he would give him areasonable gratuity, to free him from this insupportable malady, and abargain was accordingly struck for four crowns, two of which the fellowgave him in his hand, and two more were to be paid on the accomplishmentof the cure, when there were no more complaints of insufficiency. Uponthis he immediately demanded the other two crowns, which the otherrefused, and our infatuated thief brought the cause before themagistrates, where, when it came to be examined, it appeared plainlythat Masson had bragged to his companions that he had wrought thecharm, for the undoing of which he now claimed a reward. And as theJustice of the Court required, he was sentenced to be banished as asorcerer, after being first whipped at all the cross-streets in town.

But behold the marvellous conduct of Divine Justice. He appealed fromthis sentence to the parliament at Paris, whither he was no soonerconducted under a strong guard, but he was immediately known to be oneof that gang of assassins which had been executed for the murder ofPerrier's master and family. Immediately he was charged with this fact,and the heirs of that unfortunate gentleman prosecuted their charge withsuch vigour that he received the like judgment, to be broken alive uponthe wheel at the same place where his associates had suffered death;which sentence was rigorously executed five years after the perpetrationof that execrable fact.

There remained nobody but Jacques Perrier, the author and contriver ofthis horrid villainy, who had not suffered according to their deserts.He, after hiding himself for a while, until he saw what became of hiscompanions, hastily betook himself to flight, and endeavoured to flyinto England, where, if he once arrived, he knew he should remain insafety. But in this attempt he was disappointed (although nobody pursuedhim), for being arrived at Calais, the same covetous and wickeddisposition which had prompted him to murder so kind a master and allhis family, egged him on to rob a certain rich merchant there, whichvillainous design he effected whilst the gentleman was at church. But hegained not much by that, for the booty being too large to be concealed,he was very quickly apprehended and for this fact condemned to behanged. He had more wit, however, than his companion, Masson, andtherefore never dreamt of appealing to the parliament of Paris, where heknew he should meet with the same fate which had befallen the rest ofthe gang. However, when he came to suffer that death which was appointedhim by Law, he did not stick to acknowledge that execrable parricidewhich he had projected, as well as carried into execution; so that whenthe news reached Paris, it occasioned universal joy that not one ofthese bloody villains had escaped, but were so wonderfully cut off, whenthey themselves fancied the danger to be over.

The French author from whom I have transcribed this account hath swelledthe relation with much of that false eloquence which was so common inthe last age, not only in France, but throughout all Europe. Except thatI have rejected this, I have been very faithful in this translation, thestory appearing to me to be very extraordinary in its kind, and worthytherefore of being known to the public, since it will sufficientlydeclare that as vice prevails generally throughout all countries andclimates, stirring up men to cruel and atrocious deeds, so the eye ofProvidence is continually watchful, and suffers not the blood ofinnocents to cry out for revenge in vain. It remains that I inform myreaders that this villainy was transacted about the year 1611, and thatMasson and Jacques Perrier suffered in the year 1616.

Of these unfortunate lads, Abraham White was born of mean parents whohad it not in their power to give him much education, but taught him,however, the business of a bricklayer, which was his father's trade, andby which, doubtless, if he had been careful, he might have got hisbread. But he unfortunately addicting himself from childhood to drinkingand lewd company, soon plunged himself into all manner of wickedness,and quickly brought on a fatal necessity of stepping into the road ofthe gallows; and associating himself with Sanders and Minsham, they hadall gone together upon the road for about six weeks before they weretaken.

Francis Sanders was a young fellow of very tolerable arts and education.He had been put out apprentice to a stay-maker, attained to a greatproficiency in his trade; and by the help of his friends, who were verywilling to lend him their assistance, he might have done very well inthe world if it had not been for that unfortunate inclination to roving,which continually possessed him. His acquaintance with a certain badwoman was in all probability the first cause of his addicting himself toill-courses, and as in the papers I have before me relating to him, herhistory is also contained, I thought it would not be unentertaining tomy readers if I ventured to insert it. This woman's true name was MarySmith. She was brought up, while young, from her native country ofYorkshire to London, where getting into the service of an eminentshopkeeper, she might, had she been honest and industrious, have livedeasily and with credit; but unfortunately both for herself and hermaster's apprentice, the young man took a liking to her, and one night,having first taken care to make himself master of the key of her door,he came out of his chamber into hers, where after a faint resistance,he got to bed to her. Their correspondence was carried on for a goodwhile without suspicion, but the young man having one night stole abottle of rum with a design that it should make his mistress and hemerry together before they went to bed, they inconsiderately drank soheartily of it that the next morning they slept so sound that theirmaster and mistress came upstairs at ten o'clock, and found them in bedtogether. Upon this, the wench, without more ado, was turned out ofdoors, and was forced to live at an alehouse of ill-repute, whereSanders used to come of an evening, and so got acquainted with her.

John Minsham was an unfortunate wretch, born of mean parents, andequally destitute of capacity or education. From the time he had beenable to crawl alone, he had known scarce any other home than the street.Shoe-blacks and such like vagabonds were his constant companions, andthe only honest employment he ever pretended to was that of ahackney-coachman, which the brethren of the whip had taught him out ofcharity.

Thus furnished with bad principles, and every way fitted for thosedetestable practices into which they precipitated themselves, they firstgot into one another's company at a dram-shop near St. Giles in theFields, much frequented by Constance Buckle, a most lewd and abandonedstrumpet, and one Rowland Jones, a fellow of as bad principles asthemselves. One night, having intoxicated themselves with the vilemanufacture of the house, they went out, after they had spent theirmoney, and in Bloomsbury Square attacked one John Ross, from whom theytook away a hat value five shillings, and fourpence halfpenny in money.This man, it seems, lived the very next door to the gin-shop where theyfrequented. Going there the next day, to make complaint, he wasimmediately told that the people who had robbed him had sold his hat,and were coming thither by and by to drink the money out in gin. Uponthis information Ross procured proper assistance, and the people keepingtheir appointment pretty exactly, were all surprised and taken.

In the confusion they were under when first apprehended, Minsham andSanders in part owned the fact, but Rowland Jones making a full andfrank discovery, was accepted as an evidence, and produced against themat their trial at the ensuing sessions at the Old Bailey, where, uponfull evidence, they were all convicted of this fact, and FrancisSanders, Constance Buckle, and Robert Tyler, were indicted forassaulting Richard Smith on the highway, putting him in fear, and takingfrom him a hat value five shillings.

Rowland Jones, the evidence, deposed that the night the robbery wascommitted he was in company with the prisoners at a brandy shop, wherehaving drunk until they were all pretty much elevated, they went out inorder to see what they could pick up. And not far from the place theywent from, overtaking a man whom they saw had a pretty good hat on,Sanders hit him a blow in the face, and that not doing the business, herepeated it, and at the second blow, the hat fell off from his head,whereupon Constance Buckle caught it and clapped it under her coat. Theconstable deposed that by the information of Rowland Jones, heapprehended the prisoners. Constance Buckle acknowledged that she was intheir company when the man was knocked down and the hat taken, whereuponthe jury, without withdrawing, found them guilty, and they receivedsentence of death.

The woman Constance Buckle pleaded her being with child, and a jury ofmatrons being impannelled, they found she was quick, and therebyprocured her a respite of execution, and soon after her sentence waschanged to transportation. The rest, under conviction, behavedthemselves very indifferently, and manifested sufficiently that thoughcustom and an evil disposition might make them bold in the commission ofrobberies, yet when death looked them steadily and unavoidably in theface, all that resolution forsook them, and in their last moments theybehaved with all the appearances of terror which are usually seen insouls just awakened to a due sense of their guilt. They died on the 23rdof December, 1730; White being eighteen, Sanders near eighteen, andMinsham sixteen years of age.